


A Family for Christmas

by Hexcraft



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexcraft/pseuds/Hexcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite being prepared for celebrations, Russia quickly resigns himself to spending yet another Christmas alone. Little does he suspect, there are some willing to step in for his absentee family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Family for Christmas

Everything was set. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, candles on the shelves and the tree sparkled and glowed in the low light. Presents were placed neatly about the room, waiting to be opened. With a smile, Russia looked at the results of all his hard work. It would have been much easier to force his servants, the Baltics, to take care of it, but this was something he wanted to do himself. Even though this particular version of Christmas was a western tradition, the tall nation liked the idea of giving gifts and spending a day with family.  
Slowly, the smile on Russia’s face faded into a melancholy expression. It was December 24th, Christmas Eve, and his sisters were not with him. In regards to Belarus, he was grateful for this, and he did not feel any particular yearning to see Ukraine—though he knew she would have come if not for her boss.  
 _My family does not come together for Christmas,_ he thought sadly, gazing into the fire. _And I have no friends with whom to celebrate._  
It wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d invited several of the nations to spend Christmas with him, including China, America, England, France, even Germany and Italy. But they had their own plans and so Russia was left alone, just as he was last year and the years before.  
“I will just have to celebrate on my own,” he said quietly, leaving the room. Only a few minutes later he returned, his arms full of bottles of his favorite drink—vodka. Humans had to drink water immediately after drinking Russian vodka due to its high alcohol content, but not the nation. He drank it plain and he drank a great deal of it.  
In the large, overly stuffed chair he had placed in front of the fire, Russia lounged and stared into the flames as he drank bottle after bottle of the strong liquor. After a while he began to mutter to himself, commenting on his economy, the decline in his population that left him feeling lethargic, and the way the other nations seemed to hate him so strongly.  
“S’not my fault,” he complained to the fire, glaring slightly as the vodka slurred his words. “I do not wish t’be so hated…it is m’boss. I hafta follow his orders, even if I do not agree with’em. Yet th’others blame me as if I ‘ave a choice.” The flickering of the fire almost seemed to mock him in his drunken state, and his glare turned darker. When the offensive flickering continued, he got up—unsteadily—and hurled the mostly empty bottle into the fireplace. The glass shattered and the fire burst from the alcohol, shooting up into the chimney for a few moments before dying down again.  
Russia grinned and turned to look at all the presents he had wrapped so carefully for the nations who were meant to be his friends. None of them were going to be opened.  
 _I will throw them away,_ he thought gleefully, under the impression that somehow his “friends” would know what he had done and be upset with themselves or hurt in some way.  
As quickly as he could without falling down, Russia gathered up the presents and put them all in a few large garbage bags. He was on his way to the back door to add the bags to the trash pile when he passed the door to the Baltics’ room. The light was on, which he found odd because they had supposedly gone to bed over an hour ago. He peeked through the crack in the door and saw them all sitting together on one bed, holding hands and talking in hushed voices; he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were smiling. Perhaps they were celebrating Christmas amongst themselves…it never occurred to the Russian to invite them to celebrate with him, though he felt it would be a poor choice. The Baltic states were terrified of him and such an invitation would likely be seen as an order—they would feel obligated to go, and that was not what he wanted. No, he wanted someone to spend time with him because they wanted to, not because they were forced or, as with Belarus, insane on some level.  
Russia’s gaze was drawn to the trash bags, and right then and there he changed his mind. He hadn’t gotten any gifts for the three brothers, so the presents were not to be thrown out. Instead, he quietly unpacked the wrapped boxes and left them in neat stacks outside the Baltics’ door. Hopefully the gesture would help them to see he was not as bad as everyone believed.  
Rid of the gifts, Russia returned to the living room and gazed at the beautiful scene he had spent so long on. It all seemed pointless now, knowing that he had no friends or family to celebrate with. There was no reason for the decorations to remain where they were any longer; they only reminded him of his loneliness.  
Another bottle of vodka was emptied.  
Without any sign or warning, the tall nation suddenly threw open the window to the snowy outside, picked the tree up in his huge hands and violently shoved it through the window, decorations and all. It didn’t go easy, but after several moments of cursing and struggling he managed to get the damned reminder out of his house. Next he doused every candle and piled them on the coffee table to be put away by servants in the morning. Finally, the only things left were the fire and its mocking. Still panting from his exertion with the tree, Russia stared into the flames until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He killed the fire with its own ashes and thought it a fitting death for such a torturous creature.  
The living room was dark now, the only light coming from the glowing embers on the hearth. Russia grabbed the last bottle of vodka and stumbled down the hall to his room, mumbling and muttering again. When he reached his room, he collapsed on the bed without bothering to change and hid himself under the heavy blankets. The feel of tears on his cheeks received no reaction at all, and he let the bottle fall to the floor with a _clunk._ He’d had enough for one night—he could easily let himself drift into a drunken sleep and not wake up until the hangover had passed. When sleep came, he welcomed it gladly and sank into a dream of sunflowers and friends.

“Latvia, where are you going?” Estonia’s whisper was both curious and nervous—they’d all heard their master stumble by only moments before, and now the youngest Baltic was peeking out into the hallway.  
“Estonia, Lithuania, come look!” he said excitedly, though he kept his voice hushed. The two older Baltics got up and joined him at the door, surprise quickly overtaking their features. A mountain of presents nearly filled the hall.  
“P-probably from M-Mister Russia,” Lithuania stuttered, cautiously looking down the hall in the direction of the large nation’s room.  
“Can we open them?” Latvia asked, blue eyes shining.  
“Not until morning, Lat,” Estonia replied, petting his blond hair. The younger boy pouted adorably then ran into the hall, his bare feet _pit-patt_ ing on the wooden floor.  
“Latvia! Get back in here!” the bespectacled Baltic commanded softly, but Latvia was already busy moving the pile of gifts into their room. “What are you doing?!”  
“If they are from Mister Russia, we can’t leave them in the hall! He’ll be sad if we don’t accept them.”  
The two older Baltics shivered at the thought of what punishment that might bring, especially considering how much vodka their master had likely consumed that night. Once the youngest Baltic had successfully moved all the presents from the hallway into the room he shared with his “brothers,” he hopped back onto his bed and stared at the bright wrapping paper longingly.  
“Mister Russia has never given us presents,” he said, looking at Estonia and Lithuania as they joined him after making sure the door was firmly closed. “Is something wrong with him?”  
Exchanging glances again, Lithuania and Estonia sighed together.  
“It is Christmas Eve for part of the world, Lat.”  
“I know.” He smiled then looked towards the door. “But why is Mister Russia so sad?”  
“N-no one comes to c-celebrate with him,” Lithuania explained. “His s-sisters don’t, and the o-other nations reject his i-invitations.”  
Tears suddenly began to fill the shorter boy’s eyes. Estonia and Lithuania may not have really been his brothers, but they were the closest thing to family he had, and they spent Christmas Eve together. Mister Russia had two real sisters who didn’t come to see him and no friends. Strangely, he felt what very closely resembled pity for the nation who terrified him.  
“Can we be his family?”  
Silence greeted his words as the brunette and blond stared at him. He was joking, right? He couldn’t possibly be serious.  
“What are you talking about, Lat?”  
Lithuania looked too terrified to speak.  
“I want Mister Russia to have a good Christmas. He’s scary and mean, but no one should be alone on Christmas.” The young boy’s voice rang with innocence and sincerity—he really wanted to do something to cheer up his master, even though his words sounded like something out of a film.  
 _He’s insane,_ Estonia thought, gazing at his little brother. “How do you know he wants us to be his family?”  
The pout quickly returned to Latvia’s face. “We’re better than no family, Eduard.”  
The use of his human name shocked Estonia into silence and he stared at the blond boy.  
Latvia turned his determined gaze upon Lithuania until the trembling brunette looked him in the eyes. “Come on, Toris. You’ll go with me, won’t you?”  
Hesitating, Lithuania looked back and forth between his two brothers until he finally nodded. “O-of course, Raivis.”  
Exasperated, Eduard stood and paced the room as the other two watched him. They waited for him to make a decision, knowing that once he made up his mind they would just have to accept it. Eventually, he stopped pacing and glared at them, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.  
“Fine. I’ll go.”  
“Yay!” Raivis leapt off the bed and hugged his brother, nuzzling his face into Estonia’s pin-striped pajama shirt. The taller Baltic froze for a moment then hugged him back, smiling and ruffling his hair fondly. After a few moments, Latvia released the taller male and stepped back, slipping his small hand into Estonia’s larger one. He smiled at Lithuania until the brunette got up and joined them, taking Latvia’s other hand. Their rough, calloused palms were comforting against his own still-smooth ones, and he tightened his grip on them. Then, silent as shadows, the three Baltics left the safety of their own room and snuck through the large house, heading towards Russia’s room and whatever waited there.

Russia woke to the feeling of someone climbing onto his bed, followed by another stranger and another.  
 _Who…?_ his sleep-and-vodka slowed thoughts wondered vaguely, then were distracted by the feel of three warm bodies cuddling close to him. It took him a long while to realize it must be the Baltics, though why they had snuck into his room in the middle of the night and were surrounding him in his own bed was beyond him. He knew they feared him and didn’t like him, so what were they doing?  
“Go back to sleep, Mister Russia,” a soft voice whispered in his ear as small hands petted his hair. “We’ll keep you warm.” The words made the large nation smile, and for once it was a genuine, happy smile, not his usual innocent yet cruel and creepy expression.  
“ _Cпасибо,_ Raivis…” he mumbled, not even realizing he had used the boy’s human name rather than his national title. Turning slightly, he wrapped a strong arm around the small Baltic and held him close to his broad chest.  
Latvia smiled and snuggled closer. In the darkness, he could hear his brothers breathing and was glad they had decided to come with him. Careful not to wake his slumbering master, he reached out and found their hands, holding onto them firmly.  
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered, and received murmured responses from his brothers. Then he lifted his head and placed a light kiss on Russia’s pale cheek. “ _С Рождеством,_ Mister Russia. Tonight, you’re my brother, too.” He laid his head down again and sighed happily, glad that, at least for Christmas, he had a family.

Weak morning light came in through a break in the curtains, illuminating the bedroom just enough to be able to see. Feeling much warmer than usual, Russia woke and gazed at his ceiling without moving. It was oddly peaceful; the room wasn’t as cold as he’d expected and he didn’t even have a hangover.  
Something shifted beside him, drawing his gaze, and the tall nation was surprised to see his servant Estonia sleeping beside him, still with his glasses on. He then noticed Lithuania on his other side, and finally lifted the blanket to find Latvia curled up on his stomach and chest like a cat. Well, that explained why he was so warm.  
Normally, he would never allow something like this—servants and masters didn’t _cuddle_ —but it was Christmas morning and he couldn’t bear to disturb the Baltics. He began to pet Latvia’s tousled blond hair and found himself smiling. The boy was just so _cute._  
The sensation of fingers running through his hair roused Latvia and he uncurled himself, stretching. He then turned to see his master smiling at him and blushed, shyly smiling back. Russia touched his cheek and the youngest Baltic sat up to place a soft kiss on the large nation’s forehead.  
“Good morning, Mister Russia. Merry Christmas.”  
“Merry Christmas, Latvia.”  
The boy smiled and brushed his master’s hair out of his eyes with gentle fingers. “I hope you don’t mind…” he glanced at his still-sleeping brothers, “we didn’t want you to be lonely on Christmas.”  
Russia felt warm all the way down to his toes at the small boy’s words. As gently as he could, he cupped Latvia’s round face in his hands and pulled him down so he could kiss the top of his head. “Thank you, Latvia. It is very kind.”  
Pleased with the compliment, the boy carefully climbed off his master, over his brother, and out of bed. His pajamas were rumbled and he yawned, stretching again, then he smiled. “Mister Russia?” his tone was hopeful.  
“ _Да?_ ”  
Latvia was having a hard time containing his excitement and began to wiggle. “Can we open presents now?”  
To his surprise, the normally quiet nation began to laugh, startling Estonia and Lithuania awake. The older Baltics looked frightened until they realized there was no reason to be afraid, and then they smiled at one another before joining their little brother.  
“Can we, please?” His blue eyes begged.  
“Breakfast first,” Estonia scolded gently, though he was smiling. “Then, if Mister Russia says so, we can open presents.”  
Russia was still chuckling. “Breakfast then presents.” He now regretted taking down the decorations, but if he moved quickly while the Baltics prepared breakfast he could bring the tree back in and put the candles back before they went into the sitting room. Latvia cheered and ran out of the bedroom, his brothers following him as they went to begin cooking. For a moment, the violet-eyed nation stayed where he was, happier than he’d been in a long time.  
“I have a family,” he said to himself, smiling. It was the best Christmas present he could ever receive or want. “A family for Christmas.” Still with his smile firmly in place, he put on his coat and boots and went to retrieve the tree from the yard.


End file.
